


the thing about you

by TheLamestFad



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Fanart, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Model!Yuuri, OtaYuri Reverse Bang 2017, Pining, Rated T for Yuri's Potty Mouth, Texting, agent!mila, agent!sara, designer!viktor, model!otabek, model!yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLamestFad/pseuds/TheLamestFad
Summary: “Yuri, I can read you like an open book,” Mila says smugly, her hand on her hip as he sips water during his break. “Also because Viktor’s Yuuri texted me that night and told me he thought you might’ve had a thing for Otabek.”“It’s not athing,” Yuri protests immediately, a flush rising on his face. “We’ve never even met, it can’t be athing.”





	the thing about you

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the fic that was inspired by sunaoteam's amazing art!  
> This was my first time writing for any type of bang, reverse or otherwise, and it was a lot of fun!  
> Beta read by the lovely [Jellyfish_Tacos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfish_Tacos/pseuds/Jellyfish_Tacos), so any errors left are one hundred percent my own.  
> And without further ado, please enjoy! :D

“No Mila, I’ve told you _a million fucking times_. I don’t work with other models. That’s it.”

Yuri doesn’t have to see Mila’s face over the phone to know that she’s pouting. He doesn't really feel inclined to care though, since it’s ass-o’clock in the morning and she had woken him up with her call, all for something she _knows_ he doesn't do.

“Come on Yuri, don’t be like that. It’s a great gig, and this guy is really popular in Kazakhstan. I think if you just give it a shot, it could really boost your image internationally, you know? You’re already so popular in Russia and Japan but with this you could really skyrocket! He’s big in America and Canada too! I promise it’ll only be good for you!”

Yuri lets out a cataclysmic sigh as he rolls onto his side, and spies his cat sleeping next to him. He reaches over and tweaks Potya’s ear until she wakes up enough to glare at him.

“Mila, do you or do you not remember what happened the last time you made me work with someone?”

“Yuri—”

“No Mila, I’m serious,” Yuri says forcefully, and Mila falls silent. “I won’t do it. So don’t bother trying to be sneaky and booking it anyway behind my back because I’m telling you right here and now that if I see him anywhere on my set, I’ll walk the fuck out.”

Mila is quiet for a moment, and Yuri can tell that she’s trying to weigh by his voice how serious he is, before she lets out a sigh of her own. Honestly, they've done this song and dance so many times over the years that he wonders if she’s as bored of it as he is.

“Fine,” she tells him, resigned. “Fine. But just know that I think you’re making a huge mistake by not taking this deal.”

“Noted,” he responds absently, twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. “Was there anything else, or are you done pestering me now?”

She thinks for a few seconds, clearly trying to find something else she can yell at him about, but in the end all she comes up with is a reminder about his shoot on Friday before she hangs up. Yuri drops the phone on his bed afterwards, looking at his ceiling tiredly, rubbing his hands across his face. Mila really was a great agent, and he’d known her for years, but sometimes she just didn’t know when to take a hint.

It's annoying, but he's awake now at — he glances at the clock and internally groans — seven fifty three in the fucking morning, so he may as well get up and start his day, even though he doesn't have anywhere to be for literal hours. Maybe he’ll draw himself up a bath since he has the time. It's been a while, and dealing with his screeching agent first thing in the morning isn't something he would call relaxing. He nods to himself; he deserves to be pampered, so he grabs one of his most expensive bath bombs from the cupboard above the sink before he starts running the hottest water he can possibly stand. It feels heavenly when he gets in, almost like he never got out of bed, and watching the fizzing bath bomb disappear into his water is oddly soothing somehow.

He swears he only closes his eyes for a minute.

It's a big fucking mistake.

He wakes up almost four hours later still submerged in the now tepid water, completely pruned and half an hour late for brunch with Viktor and Yuuri. Snarling to himself ( _he fell asleep in the tub like a fucking child what the actual fuck is wrong with him_ ) he jumps out of the tub and practically runs back into his bedroom, giving himself a very superficial drying as he goes, and finds his phone, still where he dropped it into his sheets after his conversation with Mila this morning.

He winces when he sees his notifications; he’s got missed calls, voicemails and texts from both Viktor and Katsudon, and they’re getting increasingly frantic the closer they come to the current time. He slides Katsudon’s conversation open with his thumb, and flicks through the messages.

_Thanks for agreeing to meet us today, Yurio! Viktor and I are really looking forward to it._ **(10:55 am)**

_By the way, do you need a ride? We can swing by on our way out, it's no trouble at all._ **(10:57 am)**

_Yurio, is everything okay?_ **(11:01 am)**

_Well, we’re leaving now, so I guess we'll see you there then?_ **(11:05 am)**

_Yuri, I'm starting to get worried. You're not at the restaurant and you're not answering my texts. Viktor’s going to call you. Don't ignore him, please?_ **(11:16 am)**

_Is something the matter, Yuri? If there is, that's fine, but please just let us know you're alright._ **(11:23 am)**

_Did Viktor do something? He says he didn't but we both know his memory isn't the greatest. Please just talk to us, Yuri, you know that whatever it was he probably didn't mean it that way._ **(11:29 am)**

_All joking aside though, we’re both incredibly worried, Yuri. We’re leaving now and we're going to head to your apartment._ **(11:35 am)**

_Last chance to stop us by responding. We're in the car again and headed out._ **(11:39 am)**

_Please, please be at home, Yuri._ **(11:43 am)**

The last text had been sent less than five minutes ago, and Yuri wonders exactly how much time he has left before the idiot couple comes breaking his door down. His phone vibrates in his hand and he almost drops it on the floor in his haste to answer it, completely forgetting to even check the caller ID, though he has a hunch he knows who it is.

“He-ello?” his voice cracks when he answers; his throat suddenly feels very dry. It almost doesn't matter though, because the second he’d picked up the phone, Viktor’s voice is resounding through his apartment.

“YURIO? YURIO, IS THAT YOU?! YUURI, HE ANSWERED! YURIO, THANK GOD! WHY HAVE YOU BEEN IGNORING US?”

Before Yuri can even begin trying to get a word in edgewise, the noises shift until Viktor sounds further away and Katsuki’s voice rings through loud and clear.

“Yuri, are you okay? What happened?”

Blessedly, that's all he says before giving Yuri a chance to actually respond. Not that he particularly wants to, but he probably really owes them for this.

“I… fell asleep in the bath,” he mumbles, feeling the color begin to rise into his cheeks as the embarrassment sets in. The other side goes completely silent, and Yuri resists the urge to check if the line is still connected; he would honestly prefer if it wasn't, but he knows he’s not that lucky.

Then, Yuuri slowly responds, “W-well, we’re glad it wasn't anything more serious. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Get dressed, we’ll get some lunch instead.”

And he hangs up, but not before the beginning of Viktor’s raucous laughter makes it through the earpiece, causing Yuri to clench his hands against the sudden urge he has to murder something. He takes a deep breath, then moves over to his enormous walk-in closet. It is, if he’s completely honest, the actual reason he rented this apartment; the bedroom itself was actually fairly small, and the only entrance to the bathroom was through his bedroom, which made having guests over a bit awkward, but the closet was actually big enough that it could fit his wardrobe, and that was all it took. The number of outfits he owns that he bought himself is fairly high, but a lot of it is also companies looking to have him essentially advertise for them for free by sending him pieces of their work. Depending on who it was, and if it went with the rest of his things, he would either keep the item or donate it, but that still left a rather large number of things that he _did_ like. He has a distinctive style when he isn't posing for the camera, and he’s become fairly well known for it. The miscellaneous rest of his wardrobe is items left over from shoots that the stylists let him keep for whatever reason. As a result, there's almost no type of clothing you can't find in his giant wardrobe, and that's just the way he likes it.

He enters his closet and flicks on the light, perusing his clothes with a practiced eye, looking for anything that jumps out and screams for his attention. He finds it in a pair of tight black jeans and a black tee shirt with a roaring tiger head on the front. The shirt he had gotten at a tiny boutique in Japan that he had stumbled on completely by accident, and Viktor claims it's one of the most hideous things he’s ever seen, which is part of the reason why Yuri loves it so much. He finishes the look with a jacket — mostly leopard print save for the black sleeves and hood — and his red leopard print sneakers. His hair is an absolute disaster thanks to his foray in the tub, so he just brushes it and ties it back, pulling his hood up to cover it for good measure. He's just slipping his phone, wallet and keys into his pockets when his front door bursts open with a level of enthusiasm that only Viktor can manage.

“Hello sleepy-head!” he croons when Yuri stomps out of his bedroom. “Did you have a good wet-nap?”

“Eat shit and die Viktor,” Yuri hisses as he leaves, pushing his way past Viktor to almost collide with Katsuki in the hall. He also opens his mouth to say something, but Yuri blasts right past him too, leaving them to close up his apartment before following him down the hall towards the elevator, like two ducklings following their mother. They stand in silence in the elevator, settling on either side of him like bodyguards, but when Yuri sneaks a glance to either side to check on them, they’re both smiling that same eerily creepy smile, and Yuri can't help the shiver that travels down his spine. Oh yes, they have something cooking in retaliation for making them worry, and he's mildly afraid to find out what it is.

The drive to the restaurant is full of meaningless small talk that Yuri refuses to participate in, the tension building in his shoulders because he’s still just waiting for the other shoe to drop. They get all the way to their table and through ordering with their waitress before Yuri finally snaps.

“Alright, out with it!” he spits, and Viktor and Yuuri look between themselves in mock confusion. Oh, like that innocent act has ever worked on Yuri. “You two have something planned, I can fucking sense it. So stop playing pretend and just tell me already.”

“Please, Yurio,” Viktor says with amused eyes, holding up a hand to calm him down. “You act like we’re planning something sinister. We’re not mad about earlier; we’re just happy that nothing happened.”

Katsuki nods along with Viktor’s speech, “Yes, we were going to talk to you about this at our brunch anyway.”

Suddenly, Viktor’s in his face and pouting, and Yuri has to tamp down hard on the urge to scream and fall out of his chair. As it is, his next reaction is to take a wild swing at Viktor’s face, which he narrowly avoids thanks to a lucky catch by his husband. Now that he’s out of Yuri's extremely personal space though, Yuri feels himself relax in increments.

“Why won't you take my contract?” Viktor asks in a whiny tone, looking at Yuri with the most over the top scandalized expression he can muster.

Yuri, in return, feels his expression morph into one of confusion.

“What the hell do you mean? You haven't offered me a contract in months,” Yuri responds, trying not to feel miffed. Years ago, he had been Viktor’s only model. Now both of them have branched out since, but Viktor still offers Yuri a very large percentage of his contracts; the only model that has more of Viktor’s work than Yuri himself is Katsudon, and since they’re married, Yuri tries not to hold it against either of them.

Viktor makes a noise of disagreement high in his throat before he elaborates, “Mila called me just this morning and told me you flat out refused! I'm hurt, Yurio, I really am.”

And then the fake water works start. Normally this would be where Yuri would roll his eyes as hard as he can and walk away, but one, he can see their waitress heading to their table with their orders, and two, that would mean…

“Wait, _you’re_ the dickhead that wants me to work with another model?” he says it a bit too loudly in the sparsely filled dining room, and every one of the other six patrons in the room turns to look at him. He wants to shrink down in his seat and disappear, but it’s a bit too late to save his dignity anyway. The waitress that drops off their plates gives him a look for, presumably, both his volume and his language, before she turns back towards the kitchen and flounces away.

Viktor blinks at him in surprise as he scoops up his fork and knife.

“Yes? Is that a problem?”

“Viktor,” Yuri bites out slowly through gritted teeth. “You know I don't work with other models.”

Viktor stares into his narrowed eyes for a few seconds before comprehension slowly dawns in his own.

“Oh!” he exclaims, drawing the sound out in a way that grates on Yuri’s already frayed nerves. “Because of what happened with — _ow_!”

“Otabek isn't like that though, Yurio,” Katsudon interrupts loudly. Viktor reaches down and caresses his injured shin, looking up at his Yuuri with hurt eyes. “We met a few times before I started working exclusively for Viktor. He’s quiet, but a good guy. Honestly, I think you two would get along well.”

Yuri wants to sneer, but honestly, the name Otabek _does_ sound familiar. Katsudon is a good judge of character if he can remove himself enough from his anxiety to actually assess a person, but he’s gotten leaps and bounds better at both of those things since he married Viktor. Yuri just can't throw his opinion out like that, even though the thought rankles.

“Show me some of his shit,” he orders Yuuri, who obligingly pulls out his phone. A few taps later and Katsudon is pushing it across the table to Yuri, instagram open to Otabek’s profile. Yuri takes it, and swipes through a few pictures, and holy shit, _Otabek is hot_. His style is different from Yuri’s; whereas Yuri is generally cast as the elegant, princely type of model, Otabek is all rough edges, purposefully frayed fabrics and distressed lines. Aside from being utterly gorgeous, he also does look familiar, so Yuri has definitely heard of him before, from _somewhere_ but for the life of him he can’t remember where.

Grumbling, he passes the phone back to Katsuki.

“Fine,” he says, finally looking down at his plate and picking up his sandwich. “I’ll do it. But if this guy winds up being an asshole, you two will owe me big time.”

“Agreed!” Viktor replies instantly, his heart shaped smile wide as he too tucks into his lunch. “Thanks so much, Yurio! You won’t regret it, I promise. My new line is going to be all about complementary styles and I really think you two will pull it off well together…”

Viktor chatters through the rest of lunch about his new line and the inspiration behind it, though Yuri admits that he tunes him out about halfway through. He doesn’t really care for this part of the creative process; all that matters to him is putting on the finished product and making it look hella good like only he can. He shoots off a text to Mila to tell her that he’s taken the job after all, and she responds almost immediately. First just a string of incoherent screaming texts arrive, then a few saying how glad she is that he changed his mind, a couple that voice her suspicion that he might be playing a prank on her, then finally one single business talk text where she says she’ll contact Viktor’s agents to work out all the details of the shoot and get back to him. He would offer to talk to Viktor about it now, since since they’re both right here, but ever since Viktor’s name got big enough that he has his own secretary, he handles absolutely none of the logistics of his company and focuses solely on creating. Yuri kind of envies his single-minded devotion.

The three of them part ways after they eat, Viktor and Yuuri in their car and Yuri walking back into town towards his apartment. In spite of himself, he feels like he’s kind of looking forward to Viktor’s shoot. He hasn’t worked with another model since the infamous _JJ Leroy_ incident, and that was almost five years ago now. Maybe it’s time.

It takes a few weeks after the initial conversation he has with Viktor and Yuuri to put together a schedule where Otabek can fly out from his home country of Kazakhstan for the shoot, and Yuri finds himself sitting on tenterhooks waiting. He does some local jobs to pass the time, but he admits that his mind isn’t really on his work. Mila glances at him knowingly each time the photographer has to call his name to get his attention, and he doesn’t know how she knows but he’s going to find out.

“Yuri, I can read you like an open book,” she says smugly, her hand on her hip as he sips water during his break. “Also because Viktor’s Yuuri texted me that night and told me he thought you might’ve had a thing for Otabek.”

“It’s not a _thing_ ,” Yuri protests immediately, a flush rising on his face. “We’ve never even met, it can’t be a _thing_.”

But Mila just raises an eyebrow at him, and Yuri feels his own pathetic protests fall short. Okay, maybe he’s slightly looking forward to this a little too much for it to not be a _thing_. Whatever.

When the day finally comes for the shoot, Yuri arrives at Viktor’s studio first. It’s no surprise, really; Yuri is a native to the area, and he’s been to Viktor’s studio about a million times in the past. So by the time Otabek and his agent come in, Yuri’s already changed and Georgi is working on his make up, Lilia waiting in the wings to get started on his hair.

“Oh, are we late?” the agent asks, glancing between Yuri and her watch with nervous eyes.

“Oh, of course not! In fact, you’re early!” Viktor says brightly, sweeping into the room behind the two newcomers, Yuuri on his heels as always. Yuri rolls his eyes at the dramatic entrance, only to get hissed at by Georgi. “Yurio basically lives here, that’s all. If you want to follow Yuuri here to your changing room, Mr. Altin. Miss Crispino, you can join Yuri’s manager Mila over there…” Viktor trails off, gesturing towards Mila, who raises a hand and waves from couch she’s lounging on to Yuri’s right.

By the time Lilia’s done wrangling Yuri’s hair into a half braid on the left side, the right side still hanging tastefully over his face, perfectly coiffed in Lilia’s no nonsense manner, Otabek’s taking the seat to Yuri’s left, Georgi immediately swooping in with his makeup palette and brushes. Yuri chances a glance out of the corner of his eye, but winds up not being able to look away; somehow, in some way, Otabek is even more gorgeous in person, and even Yuri has to admit that Viktor’s outdone himself with their outfits. Otabek’s is fairly tantalizing, small rips in his white jeans and long sleeved shirt showing off bits of his skin, and Yuri’s not sure how Viktor talked Lilia into allowing a hat like that on set but it really draws the whole outfit together in a way Yuri would never be able to pull off. Georgi moves away, and Otabek stretches his neck a bit, turning to the side as he does so, and Yuri is caught, suddenly staring straight into those dark brown eyes.

Yuri completely and utterly panics.

“What are you looking at, asshole?” he snarls, and immediately regrets it, a pink flush of shame storming his cheeks.

Otabek just looks at him for a few seconds longer, as though Yuri hadn't just snapped at him for the very thing that he had just caught Yuri doing, but right when Yuri thinks he might open his mouth and speak, Viktor’s calling them towards the cameras, and they walk over to him in silence.

As Viktor explains a bit about the type of poses he wants to see from them, Yuri can’t help but watch Otabek out of the corner of his eye. He seems very attentive, looking at Viktor with that stoic face that hasn’t cracked yet, and Yuri suddenly becomes desperate to see beneath that facade. Then he glances down and sees the way the artful cut in the neck of Otabek’s shirt reveals a tattoo crawling up the length of his collarbone, and he swallows loudly, suddenly feeling like he’s done something he shouldn’t have by noticing. He lets his eyes trail back up to Otabek’s face, only to once again catch that serious gaze. Yuri flinches back, his eyes falling to the floor, very aware that this is the second time he’s been caught blatantly staring.

A hand appears in his line of vision, and he follows it back up to let his gaze rest on Otabek’s face. It’s still quite stoic, but Yuri thinks he might see just a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips and the edges of his eyes.

“Yuri,” Otabek says his name like he’s caressing it, and Yuri feels a shiver run up his spine in response. “It’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

Yuri stares between Otabek’s hand and his face, incredulous. He feels like he’s entered some sort of alternate reality where his reputation for being a bit… _unreasonable_ on set hasn’t preceded him, and taking Otabek’s hand under such a pretense feels false, somehow, like he’s not going to live up to Otabek’s expectations. He forces himself to wonder why that would even matter, but before he can answer ( _and now he’s holding conversations with himself, isn’t that just great_ ) Otabek snorts out a laugh, his smile becoming a bit more pronounced.

“Are you going to shake my hand or not?” he asks Yuri, who’s still just staring at Otabek’s stretched out hand like he’s not sure what to do with it. Flushing, Yuri takes his hand roughly, shaking it twice before he turns back to the set and crosses his arms over his chest.

But Otabek’s intent was achieved; the tension that had been hovering between them is gone now, and Yuri feels himself relax, unaware of how high strung he had even been about this whole gig. Otabek stands next to him as the studio hands make a few last minute adjustments to their set, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and Yuri can’t help but admire again what a picture he makes in Viktor’s outfit. The old man knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure.

“So, have you known Viktor for long?” Otabek says, and it takes Yuri longer than he’d like to admit to realize that Otabek is addressing _him_ with that question.

“Uh, yeah,” he responds dumbly, turning his head to face Otabek properly. “Since I started out. I was just a kid. Viktor was my first client, and I was his first model. He’s been like a leech ever since then, impossible to get rid of,” he sneers slightly, an automatic reaction he has when talking about Viktor from his teenage years that he doesn’t think will ever go away entirely.

“I’d only ever heard of him before this shoot,” Otabek offers. “But when Katsuki called me with the offer, I knew I couldn’t turn it down.”

“Yeah, Viktor’s an idiot, but he’s a popular idiot,” Yuri laughs a bit, and Otabek’s slight smile grows a bit wider. They’re called onto the set then, and even though they’ve only exchanged a few words at this point, Yuri is absolutely confident that they’ll work well together.

And he’s right. They pose seamlessly together, Viktor calling out instructions from behind the cameraman, and it’s like an elaborate dance that they’ve never even needed to rehearse. They even managed to keep up their conversation between shots, something Yuri’s never been interested enough in another person to attempt to do before. It leads to some interesting off the cuff shots of Yuri smiling, something that’s never before been captured on film, according to Viktor, and when he says it loudly enough that the two models can hear, creates the moment for the photographer to catch a great shot of Yuri flipping Viktor off.

“I can tell you’ve known each other a long time,” Otabek informs Yuri with a mischievous look after that particular incident. “You act like brothers.”

“If that’s what brothers are like, thank fuck I’m an only child.” Yuri groans, flapping one of his long sleeves in his face like a fan. It’s hot under all those lights, and they’re both wearing long sleeves, though Yuri’s got a considerably thicker layer on than Otabek.

Otabek’s smile softens, “Having siblings isn’t so bad. Sure they tease you, but there are good times too.”

“You’ve got siblings?” Yuri blinks over at him. “Actually, I don’t know why I’m surprised. You seem the type.”

“Oh? And what type is that?” Otabek says, and if weren’t for the fact that his expression didn’t change at all, Yuri would’ve said that Otabek was flirting with him. Actually, Yuri decides consciously that he definitely _wants_ to take it that way, because his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest at the very thought. Viktor calls for another pose before he can put action to his words though, and after that the moment is lost.

Yuri curses Viktor under his breath for the rest of the shoot.

It’s evident to Yuri as soon as they take the best photo of the shoot by far though; he’s been doing this for a long time, so he’s developed a decent sense for these things by now. The pose in question features Yuri fluffing up the collar of his gray sweater, the long sleeves covering both of his hands as Otabek leans casually against his shoulder, one hand in his pocket and his usual serious expression on his face. It’s cover quality, and Yuri is practically preening by the time Viktor and his photographer release them to change back into their own clothes. He and Otabek will look fucking amazing together.

He spends the ten minutes it takes him to change rehearsing in his head the best way to ask Otabek for his number. Because he’s interested in him _as a friend too_ , thank you very much — maybe he had missed an opportunity to flirt, but Otabek had turned out to be a pretty cool guy and Yuri doesn’t have a lot of friends as it is. It’s a one hundred percent platonic type of number-getting. Really.

Otabek is back in the main studio before he is, standing near Mila and his own manager that Yuri already forgot the name of, watching as they chat energetically together. Yuri walks over to the group and opens his mouth to demand Otabek’s contact info, but he’s beaten to it when Otabek hears him approach and turns to look at him. His expression shifts from open and relaxed to what Yuri can easily perceive as the closest Otabek’s face can come to a “ _what the_ _fuck_ " type of expression. Yuri looks down at himself in question, wondering what set Otabek off like that, but sees nothing; he’s wearing a pair of tight leopard print jeans and a black t-shirt that says _Meow Bitch_ in glittery gold writing. In short, he’s hot as hell.

Mila and Otabek’s manager finish up their conversation, and the dark haired woman turns to her client and smiles, “Ready, Otabek? Let’s head back to the hotel.”

Otabek nods, waving at Yuri as he follows his manager out of the door, and Yuri is left feeling bereft in his absence. They hadn’t spent more than a few hours together, but Otabek isn’t _allowed_ to just walk out of Yuri’s life like that without giving him some way to get in touch. Except, he totally already did. Maybe he really was wrong about the flirting earlier.

When Yuri turns back to Mila, she’s smiling a cat-got-the-canary grin at him, and he takes a step back out of sheer self-preservation instinct before he asks, “What the hell is up with you?”

“Oh, nothing,” she practically sings, slinging her arms around Yuri’s shoulders as she leads him back out of the studio and towards the parking lot. “Nothing at all. Do you wanna get lunch? I’m starving.”

After that, Mila seems to get an unholy joy out of keeping Yuri informed of Otabek’s every move. Yuri wouldn’t say that he minds, when he’s alone and totally _not_ obsessively stalking Otabek’s instagram (which he refuses to just follow out of principle), but when Mila’s actually within hearing distance, he grumbles and rolls his eyes and makes a show out of letting her tell him the things he’s actually desperate to know. She humors him, for once in her life, and lets him continue to put on the charade that he doesn’t buy any and all magazines that he finds with pictures and interviews with Otabek in them. Because he doesn’t.

Just like he also doesn’t lay in his bed late at night and kick himself for _not getting Otabek’s fucking number_. Because that would just be pathetic. And imply that he has a _thing_ for Otabek. Which he’s already established, he doesn’t. At all.

Because if Otabek really had been flirting with him at the shoot, there’s no way in hell Yuri wouldn’t have his number right now, right? So no problem there.

And Yuri is totally, one hundred percent okay with that. Really.

Mila allows this intense level of denial to go on for a month before Yuri receives a very poignant text from her.

_Otabek’s going to be back in St Petersburg for a few days doing smth for Viktor. This is his #. FOR THE LOVE OF MY SANITY, TEXT HIM. PLEASE._ **(12:32 pm)**

Yuri throws his phone across his room, as though he’s afraid that somehow by touching it Otabek will sense that Mila’s given Yuri his number and will know about the complicated little dance Yuri’s heart did in his chest when he first saw the digits sitting there. He gets up and retrieves it almost immediately though, sending a response to Mila ( _mind your own business, hag_ ) before he types out a text to the number Mila says is Otabek’s, his fingers shaking a bit as the nerves get to him.

Friendly nerves. Because this is still a friend thing.

_hey is this Otabek? it's yuri plisetsky._

_Oh, hey. What's up?_ **(12:38 pm)**

That's it? Yuri wants to scream, looking at his phone with sheer incredulity. No _how did you get this number_ or _why are you texting me you perv_? Because this completely normal response to his text when he shouldn't even have Otabek’s number is somehow freaking him out more than Otabek freaking out would.

_heard you were gonna be in town. wanna get together?_

There. A perfectly normal response for Otabek’s perfectly normal text.

_Yeah, I’d love that. What did you have in mind?_ **(12:40 pm)**

He’d _love_ that? Otabek would _love_ to get together with Yuri? This is almost starting to sound too good to be true.

_are you free tonight? I could meet you at your hotel and figure it out from there._

_Yeah, I'll be free around five. I'm staying in the Belmond Grand. See you soon?_ **(12:43 pm)**

In spite of himself, Yuri can't help but read the question at the end with a tinge of hopefulness. Maybe he’s projecting, but he's totally got a date tonight, so what-the-fuck-ever.

_yeah, see you then._

He refrains from putting a heart at the end of his text, but only just. He smiles down at his phone for a minute before the truth settles into his brain and he panics. He’s got a date tonight. He’s got thousands of clothes to choose from and no one to help him decide what to wear. He immediately texts Mila again.

_if, completely hypothetically, i had a date tonight… what should i wear??_

Her response is instantaneous.

_OMG, DID YOU ACTUALLY ASK OTABEK OUT??? I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D DO IT, HOLY SHIT_ **(12:50 pm)**

_Now I owe Yuuri ten bucks, damn_ **(12:50 pm)**

_Ah well, anything for my sweet little Yuri :’)_ **(12:50 pm)**

_And you can wear anything you want, babe! You’re hot no matter what ;)_ **(12:51 pm)**

And while there are some things about her texts that he’s going to have to remember to get after her for later (like why the hell she’s betting with Katsudon about his love life) he had been hoping for something a little more concrete as far as the fashion advice went.

_c’mon mila, you’re my agent. you’ve gotta have an opinion on what i look best in._

She takes a little longer to respond this time, and Yuri’s just letting himself start to feel annoyed when she finally gets back to him.

_Well in that case… I’d avoid any of the big cat prints. I know you’re a fan, and you do look good in them, but if you wanna impress Otabek, I’d stay away for now. He seems to be a pretty big fan of your work tho, so anything you have from Viktor will probably do the trick_ **(1:03 pm)**

Miffed, Yuri drops his phone onto his bed and heads into his closet, looking around at all the animal print he’s got and sighing. He would normally wear as much animal print as possible after a comment like that, but Mila does have an eye for fashion, and now he’s going to be worried about it if he ignores her. So he grudgingly takes her advice, putting together a Viktor ensemble that makes him feel like a walking advertisement. Damned if he doesn't look good in it though, a loose green off-the-shoulder sweater that brings out his eyes and a pair of dark grey jean shorts that peek out about an inch from the hem of the sweater. It’s been unseasonably warm in St. Petersburg the past few days, so he doubts he’ll be cold even with his legs exposed. He feels better about everything once he’s decided on his outfit, so he strips again and hops in the shower. He hasn’t taken a bath since that fateful morning when he fell asleep in the tub, so even though he would rather so he can really make himself look his best for tonight, he doesn’t dare.

He’s done getting ready by three, the outfit he chose earlier on and his hair kept out of his face in a half-ponytail, and he spends the rest of the afternoon trying to find ways to keep himself busy until he’s supposed to meet Otabek. It doesn’t work well, and he winds up texting Mila again, sending her pictures of his outfit and asking for a second opinion.

_You look gorgeous! That sweater really brings out your eyes. Otabek will love it!_ **(3:44 pm)**

Well, that was a distraction for all of twenty-five seconds, Yuri thinks as he rolls his eyes. He spends the next hour uselessly pacing his apartment, rearranging his knick knacks for the fifty-sixth time just for something to do with his hands. Potya watches him with critical eyes from her seat on his couch, but every time he looks at her she looks away, as though she’s pretending not to know him. He loves his cat, honestly, but she’s kind of an asshole.

When it’s finally, _finally_ , time for him to leave, he almost flies out the door, thankful to be out of the constricting space of his apartment and out into the fresh air. The nerves set in again as he walks up the steps of the Belmond Grand ten minutes later, looking around the wide archways for Otabek. What if he decides not to come? What if he realizes that Yuri’s just a punk with a pretty face and doesn’t want to get to know him? What if—

“Yuri, there you are.”

Yuri whirls around when Otabek’s voice comes from behind him, startling him so much he almost drops his phone on the marble floor.

“Otabek! Hi,” Yuri manages after a second, subtly trying to hold a hand to his rapidly beating heart.

Otabek’s small smile at him is like balm on a wound, his irritated nerves instantly soothing.

“I’m glad you contacted me,” Otabek tells him as they walk back out of the hotel lobby and into the street. “I wanted to give you my number last time, but I thought it might’ve been a bit… forward,” he self-consciously rubs the short part of his undercut between his fingers, and Yuri wants to squeal at how adorable he looks.

“It wouldn’t have been forward,” Yuri rushes to say, and that in itself, is more forward than anything either of them have done so far. Otabek glances over at him after he says it, so he rushes to explain himself. “Like, I just mean — I had fun, working with you. I wouldn’t have minded, if you had. So. No worries.”

Otabek is looking at him with this soft little smile that makes Yuri’s throat dry and his rambling stop dead in its tracks.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he informs Yuri. They just seem to be randomly walking down the sidewalk at this point, and Yuri has to wonder if Otabek already has a destination in mind or not. It turns out that yes, he does, when he stops at a coffee shop that Yuri’s walked by a thousand times before but never been in. When Otabek catches the look on his face, he starts to look a bit sheepish again. “I asked Yuuri and Viktor today if there was any place they recommended near the Belmond Grand. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, this is fine,” Yuri says, and the weird thing is that he actually means it. The cafe is small, but clean, and Yuri is always open to support local businesses. There’s no line when they walk in, so they order immediately and find a table by the window, content to talk while they wait. Yuri finds out in that time that Otabek has two sisters, one younger and one older (which he totally didn’t already know thanks to his stalking escapades) and that the older sister is named Aigerim and the younger one, Inzhu, which he _actually_ didn’t know. He grew up in Almaty, Kazakhstan, but traveled a lot when he was younger to try and get his name out there as an upcoming model.

After their food arrives and they tuck in. Otabek seems to hesitate for a second before he says, “We’ve actually met before, you know.”

Yuri actually almost chokes on his salad, a dried cranberry almost killing him when it threatens to go down the wrong way. He takes a swig of water to prevent the tragedy, then splutters a hoarse, “ _What_?” to Otabek because he’s ninety-nine percent sure he would’ve remembered meeting someone like Otabek before.

“In a casting call,” Otabek clarifies, once he’s sure that Yuri’s not actually dying. “When we were kids. To put it simply, you were amazing, and I was awful. After that, I started to try a lot harder, put a lot more effort into my work. I’ve followed the progress of your career pretty closely since then.”

The admission seems like it’s hard for Otabek, who’s now avoiding Yuri’s eyes and fiddling uncertainly with his fork. Yuri can hardly believe what he’s hearing. _Otabek_ followed his career? _Otabek_ had known of him for countless years, and Yuri’s only just finding out about it? Well, that simply isn’t allowed to stand.

“I hope you know you owe me for that,” Yuri starts, and when Otabek finally catches his eyes, he smiles. “I want to know everything about you that I’ve missed. You can start from reminding me about that casting call, because to be honest, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Otabek looks so relieved it’s comical, and Yuri laughs, feeling giddy. There was someone out there that was actually interested enough in _him_ , in _Yuri_ , to have been following his career since they both were children? It’s almost like a dream.

They stay in the cafe, talking and laughing like old friends until the sun goes down, and the aging proprietor kindly asks them to leave so he can close up. Embarrassed, they do, and Yuri walks Otabek back to his hotel, their arms swinging close together as they walk, and Yuri would like nothing better than to take Otabek’s hand. He doesn’t want to ruin the easy-going mood they have going though, so he refrains, satisfying himself by instead by imagining what it would be like, to lace their fingers together and walk down the street hand in hand.

They stop outside the doors to Otabek’s hotel, and Yuri hesitates in wishing Otabek goodnight when he feels the mood shift again. He’s feeling bold though, the good spirit from the night infecting him in a way he normally doesn’t allow himself to feel. He steps into Otabek’s space, being sure to make eye contact before he closes them purposefully and places his lips gently against Otabek’s. He only holds them there for a few seconds, but the contact is electric. It feels _right_. He tries to step back, only to find that Otabek’s hands have migrated to his hips and are holding him in place. When he finally opens his eyes again, Otabek is looking at him with wonder in his gaze.

“I can’t believe…” Otabek starts, then trails off, his eyes skittering over Yuri’s face like they can’t decide on one specific part of him to look at. “For years, I’ve wanted… and then you just… you’re amazing, you know that?” he finally settles on, resting his forehead against Yuri’s as he smiles helplessly.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Yuri says smugly, but his heart is going crazy and he’s shaking because it _worked_. Yuri stands there and just breathes in Otabek’s presence, feeling content to be in his space. Eventually though, Otabek pulls back with a regretful expression.

“I’ve got to get back up. Sara will be looking for me soon,” he explains, running one of his hands over Yuri’s hair. He leaves it to settle on the back of his neck, where his fingers continue to play with the tips of the strands. “But… can I see you tomorrow?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” Yuri tells him honestly, and Otabek smiles again before leaning in close and placing a wisp of a kiss against Yuri’s lips.

“Alright then,” he replies. “It’s a date.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who made it this far!  
> If you enjoyed the story and art, please let us know by leaving a comment or kudo!  
> All comments about sunaoteam's art will be passed along, or you could also drop by their [tumblr](http://sunaoteam.tumblr.com) and let them know directly how much you enjoyed their art! :D


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